


Likewise

by GnomeIgnominious



Category: Friday Night Dinner (TV)
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Canon Jewish Character, Deaf Character, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:55:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24326125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GnomeIgnominious/pseuds/GnomeIgnominious
Summary: A short post-ep for Dad's Birthday, in which Jackie comforts Martin.
Relationships: Martin Goodman/Jackie Goodman
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	Likewise

**Author's Note:**

> I thought Dad's Birthday was a phenomenal episode, and an especially great performance from Paul Ritter. I guess I like making Martin suffer, but what I like even more is seeing how much Jackie and Martin do care for each other.

Once the doctor and ambulance had left, Martin had cried a little, then laughed rather hysterically. It was something like relief, Jackie thought. Fifty three years of living under his mother’s thumb, and now she was gone.

The boys had hung around awkwardly for half an hour or so before making their excuses, each giving their dad a heartfelt hug before heading home. Jackie had busied herself with phone calls, ringing Martin’s aunt and cousins to break the news that Cynthia had died. None of them had seemed that upset.

Jackie put the phone down after calling the last of the relatives that she had a phone number for, and glanced at the clock. It was nearly 10pm. Too late to call the rabbi and start arranging the funeral. She would do that tomorrow. Jackie wanted to do as much as she could to help Martin, and not only because he was technically sitting shiva. She felt something of a debt to him for his support of her after her father died.

Jackie and her mother had been in pieces after Sidney’s death, and Martin had managed to overcome his usual organisational ineptitude and done absolutely everything for them. He’d arranged the funeral and looked after her and her mother throughout their shiva. He’d asked Val to cook for them, and even got Larry to help with making phone calls to relatives and to the rabbi, as he had the obvious difficulty of not being able to hear people on the phone.

As her thoughts drifted back to Martin, she realised she didn’t know where he’d got to. It wasn’t much use calling his name; he would only be able to hear her if he was in the next room. He was probably either upstairs or out in the shed. Jackie thought the latter was more likely, but decided to check upstairs first before making the trek to the bottom of the garden.

She went upstairs and pushed open their bedroom door to see Martin sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to her. He had his head in his hands and his shoulders were shaking with suppressed sobs.

“Oh, Martin, darling.”

She crossed the room and sat down next to him on the edge of the bed. Her first instinct was to put her arm around him, but she held back. Martin didn’t always like to be touched, especially if it was unexpected or if he was already feeling upset.

He drew a deep, shaky breath and scrubbed a hand over his face, wiping away the tears.

“Sorry, Jackie.” He pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and blew his nose, his breath starting to calm down. He attempted a watery smile.

“There’s nothing for you to be sorry about, Martin.”

She laid her hand, palm up, on the bed between them. Martin took it gratefully. That was her cue that it was ok to hug him, and so she did, pulling him in tightly. He wrapped his arms around her and she held him as he started to cry again.

“It’s just so stupid,” he mumbled.

“What is?”

“Me,” he said, pulling back from her hug and gesturing at his tear-streaked face. “This. I bloody hated the woman.”

“I know darling. But she was still your mother. It’s all right to be sad.”

Martin drew in another deep breath and sighed. “You know what we’re supposed to say: _baruch dayan ha-emet_.”

Jackie frowned. She knew a lot less Hebrew than Martin -- he’d gone to a fairly religious school and learnt it there, supplemented by lessons from his granddad, who was a rabbi.

“ _Barukh atah Adonai Eloheinu melekh ha'olam, dayan ha-emet_. Blessed are You, Lord, our G-d, King of the universe, the Judge of Truth. She made me say it when my dad died. Forced me to repeat the words after her. Thanking G-d for my own father’s death.”

He looked away from Jackie, picking at a loose thread on his jeans.

“I said it again earlier. Quietly. Only this time I really meant it. Isn’t that horrible?”

“You’re not your mother, Martin. And I will thank G-d too; without her, you’d never have been born, we’d never have met. Our wonderful boys wouldn’t exist. So I am rather grateful to G-d for putting Cynthia Goodman on this Earth.”

He smiled, and took her hand again.

“You know I love you?” he asked, and Jackie smiled too. Their favourite joke.

“I love you likewise.”

**Author's Note:**

> The transliterations from Hebrew are not my own.
> 
> Also, if we want to get really technical about it, shiva doesn't actually start til after the funeral, so Martin is really in the period of aninut.
> 
> Finally, since I'm posting this on a Friday night, gut Shabbos all!


End file.
